Skip to main content

Something Under the Stairs



Sometimes when you look in the mirror you see some things you don't like.  You see wrinkles, yes, and grey hair, sure, but that's okay, that's just what happens if you don't die young, you get older, and that just fine, but there is other stuff there, stuff that hides behind the eyes, things you hate, that meek child part of you, that broken fool part of you , that sad pathetic needy part of you, it is all there if you look close enough, there hiding behind your eyes.

So what you do is, you take all the parts of yourself that you hate, all the weaknesses and failures, you take those things and you lock them away, somewhere deep, somewhere dark.  All the times you failed, when you should have spoken up but didn't, when someone needed you and you didn't show up, when you could have easily given but chose not to, you reach inside and pull it out of you and you toss it down the stairs.  

What you do is, you look at all the worst parts of the people you love, you look inside, you identify those qualities in yourself and you lock those away behind that heavy, heavy door. You find there inside yourself the lost child, the depressive, the coward, the drunk, the absentee father, the lazy asshole, the pathetic need, you take them all out, and one by one, you shove them down the stairs into the darkness.  

And then what you do is, nothing.  You can assume that you are fine and you feel a lot better. 

But all those terrible, awful, hateful things, they keep on living down there in the darkness, they meet up, they recognize each other. They all realize that they are the same, and then what happens is, they meld together and you realize that you have accidentally created a monster, something dark and horrible and dangerous, and it is in your house, and even though mostly it sleeps, mostly it is safely locked away in the darkness, you can never rest easy.  You have to go and check to make sure the door is locked and for a while it is fine, for a while the monster sleeps and you can relax, but a little uneasy, too aware that all that stands between the creature and the sunny place you have built is a piece of wood and some chains.  

Sometimes the door rattles, sometimes the monster wants to be let out, but it has grown so huge and dangerous that you fear that it will eat everything that you love, and so then what you do is, you sit with your back to the door and you can't enjoy living in the light because you are so afraid that the monster is awake, that if you're not watchful, it will escape. 

You are afraid that it is inevitable, that one day you will fall asleep, you will forget to check the locks.  You believe it is just a matter of time.

And what you do is, you wait.

Never once does it cross your mind that living with a monster is crazy, that only a damn fool would live like this, never once do you remember that it was you who created it.  Never once does it occur to you that it is you.

The monster is part of you.

So there can be no peace for your soul, no rest, no reprieve, and the monster inside will never be slayed, it can only be put to sleep for a while.  And the monster waits.

What you do then is, you live with it.

You live with it.

7-12-18

Still Writing, 

RP


You know what to do by now right?  Comment here, email me at dissent.within at gmail.com, on Twitter @RDPullins, and Facebook, I suppose, even though its gross.  
I want to paraphrase something I heard recently:
Whatever it s that you do, if you make music or write poetry or cut hair or make furniture or food or whatever it is, do it as hard and as honestly as you can, and get it out in the world.  It is these things that remind us that we are not alone, and even though you may never know it, you have helped, even if just a little.  Sometimes just a little makes a big difference to someone. Peace. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

One of the Best of Us

In the stifling heat my breath comes fast and heavy. What the fuck am I even doing here? What the fuck am I trying to accomplish? I'm sitting on the mat, maybe dying, a forty something dad playacting at being a fighter. This is my mid-life crisis, this is so, so stupid. This has to be the end for me, assuming I can get my heartbeat under control, assuming I don't just peg out here on the mat.  I can't do this anymore. "It's okay man, it's okay, you just need to breathe through it. You're fine, you're okay." The voice of my training partner, gentle and kind. My partner, the maniac that drove me to such a state, that I think I might die, he sits next to me and shows me how to breathe, how to calm my body. He teaches and guides me through it, and in a few minutes I actually am okay, the panic settles down, and maybe this isn't my last class after all. "You're alright?  Okay. Now lets get back to work."  And back to work we go. There

The Dance of the Sand Hill Crane

 It is Saturday morning in Feburary and here in Michigan it is clear and cold.  The sun has risen a while ago but there are still streaks of red in the sky, lighting up the clouds, high and wispy.  I am standing by my car after completing some chore, cleaning something or retrieving something and I am slow breathing, trying to calm my heart. It has been a difficult week. My son has a fight tonight, full contact MMA, his first, and I am full of conflict and anxiety about it. Not because I don't believe he will do well, because I know he is as prepared as anyone can be for such a thing, but because I am a father and I feel like I should be protecting him from the violence of the world. Even though he turns nineteen in a few weeks and is stronger both physically and mentally than I could ever hope to be, he is still my boy, and I am scared for him. My other son is fifteen and this week was embroiled in some stupid conflict at school, a misunderstanding that had led to meetings with th

A Soap Bubble Nothing

I built a table, out of wood.  I made a thing that wasn't there before.  I cut and sanded the wood, I drilled in screws, and now we have a table where we didn't have one before. It is real and solid and you can touch it, you can feel where I cut poorly, see the rough edges where I didn't join the wood correctly, you can lift it, feel its weight.  It is a real thing that I made.  I made a table. This is not a table, this is a nothing, a series of random thoughts that I had in the shower, which is where thoughts come from. What if our souls are soap bubbles, what if we spread ourselves too thin, stretched out and flattened? What happens when it pops, would you even notice, would you even care? What if we are meant for something more? I am already behind schedule this year I've got work to do, I have things to accomplish, friends ask me questions ask for favors and all I say is yes yes yes and- What is this?  What am I hoping to do here writhing I meant to write "writ